We’re collectively working as a society towards making the world more comfortable for people who aren’t conventionally attractive, by societies often unrealistic standards. More men are learning to love the bodies they are in. As part of the conversation to normalise body positivity, I spoke to six men about their bodies and what they felt insecure about and how they’re learning to embrace it.
Abdul Azeez
My ass is quite soft. Imagine a soft bubble butt on a hairy greek statue. That’s me. One time, a girl playfully slapped my ass and she was instantly hooked. Another time, during sex, a woman held my ass while I was pummelling her and didn’t stop until the end. So I’m usually insecure about bringing attention to my ass.
Anthony, 30
I’m not exactly insecure about it, but I’d like to reduce my belly. Not like I’m looking for six-packs, I just understand the health challenges that come with obesity. Other than that, I have accepted my status as a grizzly-chubby-cuddly-fluffy bear! Sometimes, it gives people an upcoming-sugar-daddy vibe. Other times, it means I can’t readily go topless.
TTA, 23
I feel insecure about my chest and arms. I’m six feet tall and thin, so I always feel a need to “buff up.” It makes me very uncomfortable exposing my chest in public.
It makes me feel weak and people tend to call me lazy when I avoid lifting heavy stuff, for example. I’m strong. I just don’t have the biceps to show for it. I’m trying to accept my body but it’s still a struggle for me.
Feyi, 26
I didn’t think I was insecure about anything until recently. A girl I was with wanted to eat my ass but I just couldn’t let myself do it. I had never felt so insecure before. I immediately understood why some women were reluctant to sit on people’s faces.
Michael, 27
When I was 18, I was quite fit as I worked out regularly. I started to decline academically and depression set in. I lost all motivation to do anything. Now, I’m struggling with belly fat and gynecomastia (sometimes referred to as “man boobs”). I stopped wearing tight clothes because they became uncomfortable. I’m stuck with wearing big shirts and polo shirts.
I first noticed my hairline receding when I was 24 and there was nothing I could do about it. My hair used to make me feel good. I went from carrying a mohawk to carrying inconspicuous hairstyles. People suggest I wear face caps or skin my head but I think trying to hide it just make people focus on it.
Rotimi, 29
My stomach is slightly big and I’m pear-shaped. Even when I tried working out, I was just getting muscular but the belly didn’t reduce. I’d like to wear more revealing stuff but I’ve given up on that. When I have a date I’m going to be naked at, I start to bother about it. I let them know before they come that they shouldn’t expect me to have a six-pack. I’ve resorted to being a sugar daddy-type.
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What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.
Today’s Man Like is Seni Oremodu, a 27-year old digital marketer. He talks about how his mother’s death and secondary school experiences made him lose his faith and interest in religion and dealing with an identity crisis.
What did you see yourself doing when you were younger?
I wanted to be a pastor. Everyone thought I was going to be a pastor. Then I started asking questions about religion no one could answer. I moved on to science. I wanted to be a nuclear scientist, but Nigeria has a way of narrowing the scope of your dreams. I opted to study chemical engineering instead. When I was 18, I visited a friend and met someone making beats. I picked up an interest in music production, and I made beats to make extra money in uni. In 300-level, I teamed up with a drummer friend and formed a boy band named Publiq.
When I graduated, someone asked me to manage a couple of social media accounts because my tweets were funny. I had no idea how to manage accounts. I flopped my way through that job, so I took courses in digital marketing to learn it. Digital marketing wasn’t what I had in mind since I studied chemical engineering, but when I get involved with a topic, I become completely obsessed with it. That’s what happened with digital marketing. I worked as a digital marketer for a couple of years. Now, I’m the head of growth at Onboardly, a startup.
Wow. That’s quite the professional journey. Tell me all about losing your religion.
Ah. Well. I grew up in Port Harcourt. I wasn’t aware at the time, but we were poor. I couldn’t afford certain things, but my parents did their best to provide. I only realised that I wasn’t in the same social class as other kids when they showed off toys in school.
My mom died when I was 12 and that sent me down a spiral. Answers were not forthcoming when I asked questions, I read the entire bible, and it did little to satisfy me. I went on to read books about atheism by authors like Richard Dawkins, and I think it was in my teenage years that I swung into my agnosticism.
When I got into secondary school, which was a military school in Uyo, I completely disconnected from religion due to the abuse and bullying.
Wow.
My dad sent me to a military school because he had the idea that it would make me stronger. I was beaten every day. It was so bad that the junior students used to fantasise about how they would beat juniors when they were promoted.
Did it make me stronger? In a twisted way, yes. For example, I’m not afraid of soldiers. They beat us every day, so I don’t feel threatened when a soldier comes on the scene.
Did it affect your relationship with your dad?
I love my dad. I’m a lot like him. Because I was young when I lost my mother, my father’s character was heavily imprinted on me. He’s a very funny guy, and I got my sense of humour from him. I also got a lot of my morality from my dad. He used to make us do morning devotion every day, we always learnt something new.
I inherited his just-do-it attitude, and I’m really proud of that. He had a fixation on ensuring my siblings and I learnt the multiplication table. He forced us to learn it by heart, claiming that if we knew the table, math would be easy. True to form, math and chemistry became my favourite subjects, hence my obsession with nuclear science and later, chemical engineering. He made me understand that it’s not too late to chase anything that interests you. To him, when you stop experiencing new things is when you stop living. He actually went back to school six years ago to study law, at 62 years old. He’s due to be called to the bar this year.
He also taught me to be responsible. During my IT in 300-level, I was working in an oil company in Port Harcourt. My dad called one day and advised me to save up my money. When I was to resume 400-level, I asked my dad for money to pay my school fees. He laughed and said, “What did you think I was telling you to save for?” I paid my final year fees from my pocket.
LMAO. Who had the biggest impact on your idea of masculinity?
I’ve always struggled with my identity, having been born to Yoruba and Rivers parents. On one hand, I am a Rivers boy who spent my formative years in Port Harcourt, but I never really acclimatised because I was an indoorsy child. On the other hand, I’m a Yoruba boy in Lagos who can’t speak Yoruba. People often want to put me in a box and when I don’t fit neatly into any one, they’re not quite sure what to do with me.
I was still unsure of my identity when it was time for university. Then I met my cousin, Niggydip in UNILAG. He was the older brother I never had. He’s the one who advised me to study chemical engineering instead of electrical engineering, given my mathematical talents. He always looked out for me and made sure I was fine in school. He actually introduced me to puns. He took me under his wings, took me to shows and concerts while I was in school. He’s the kind of guy to make sure everyone around him was taken care of. I looked up to him for everything and actively tried to model my life after his.
In my final year in uni, he had a cardiac arrest while he was out jogging and slumped. Bystanders, instead of helping him, robbed him of his personal effects instead. I cried. I also missed his burial. On the day of his funeral, I had an exam scheduled. I rushed through the exams to try to make the ceremony, but I was too late.
I’m sorry man. How did you deal with that?
You learn to move on. Life just has a way of going on, no matter how heavy the grief is in your heart. You grieve until you can talk about the person without breaking down every time. Life just has a way of going on, no matter how heavy the grief is in your heart. I learnt to move with the times because one minute, people are consoling you for your loss, the next, they’re back to tweeting about Lai Mohammed.
My support system also helped me get through it.
I’m glad. What are you looking forward to?
Because I didn’t grow up around a lot of money, I’ve been a content person. I can be stingy to myself. My career gradually went on an upward trajectory, and I started making more money but didn’t have much to spend money on. I’ve decided that I work too hard to deny myself things, so I’m trying to learn to buy things for myself and give myself treats like vacations. Like my dad, I believe the moment you stop experiencing things is when you start dying, so I intend to experience as much as I can. I want to travel and find things that I enjoy.
Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Likeseries. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.
Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”
The story of the 10 Plagues of Egypt you read in the Bible was scary but it didn’t tell of all the plagues. There was one more it failed to mention. No, it’s not COVID-19. It’s women coming to your house and stealing your clothes. The reason why your money is running out is because you keep buying shirts women end up stealing. So here are 6 sure ways you can prevent women from stealing your clothes like the robbers that they are.
1. Lock your wardrobe when she comes around
If you want to keep the thieves out, you have to keep your possessions under lock and key. You get to keep your perfume safe too.
2. Don’t let her enter your room
If she can’t enter your room, she won’t see the clothes and perfume to steal. You can hire a bouncer to stay outside your door.
3. Don’t let her come to your house
Forget Netflix and Chill. Hang in places like Chicken Republic or in a quiet park somewhere. That way you get to know her. If you must Netflix and Chill, go to her house. You might even find something nice to steal for yourself and turn the tables on them.
4. Cuddle her when you sleep
Hold her tight while you sleep, not only because you’re fond of her but also to prevent her from sorting through your clothes while you sleep to find the one she wants to take. A word is enough.
5. Wear only trad
She can’t steal your trad. The only downside is that you become one of those men that wear trad to the beach. That’s bad.
6. Buy…interesting clothes
If your clothes will cause a Lagosian to look at you twice, don’t worry, she won’t touch it with a long pole. You get to keep all your clothes.
The Twitter ban has affected a lot of people and businesses in different ways. We tend to overlook the impact Twitter has had in various aspects of our lives. One of such aspects is relationships. I spoke to 6 Nigerian men who found love on Twitter. They had such interesting stories.
Tosin
We had been following each other for years but we never interacted. One day, she posted a tweet late at night and I slid into her DMs. I ended up going to her place that night even though I had work the next day. That was very out of character for me. We started talking and just couldn’t leave each other alone.
Then the pandemic happened and we got stuck with each other. Being with her just made perfect sense. We still don’t know the exact date we started dating, but we’re together now.
Timothy
She replied to one of my tweets, telling me my tweets gave off a vibe she liked and she wanted to find out if it was the real me or just a social media facade. We continued to talk on the timeline until she sent me DM one day to discuss something and that’s how it all started.
Daniel
She tweeted a complaint about the constant short women slander on the TL. I pointed her towards my tweet professing my love for short women. We started talking until we fell inside a relationship.
Seni
We used to tweet at each other about random stuff; work, school work, insulting politicians together and exchanging friendly banter. One day, she says “we should meet up sometime.” That’s how we got married o. To Jesus be the glory.
Olumuyiwa
I think I became aware of her in 2016. That must have been the time I first followed her on Twitter. She was anon, and I sort of found that interesting. At the time, I used to be pretty loud about my atheism. I had lost faith earlier in 2014 and I was still within that acute phase where people who are new to unbelief are pretty loud about it. So, our first conversation was about religion. At the time, she was very religious but there was a difference.
She was very non-judgemental. In all of our interactions, she sought to truly understand my point of view and asked really deep and intriguing questions. So, that was how we got talking and I realised that I enjoyed talking to her. We decided to meet up and now, we’ve been together for three years.
Damola
We started talking on the timeline last year after I noticed. She quoted a tweet of mine and I started talking to her like I do when people interact with me on Twitter. That’s how we became friends while she was in the UK at the time. There was no DM interaction until her birthday when I wished her a happy birthday. We started talking a lot more.
What kickstarted it was when someone tweeted “send your boyfriend money for lunch”. I mentioned her handle as a joke and she asked for my account number. I was surprised and considered her thoughtful. I joked that if I could afford a ring, I’d propose to her. She said she wouldn’t mind Haribos candy rings. So I found a way to send it to her in the UK. We started paying more attention to each other and became closer. I started catching feelings for her but I had just left a relationship that had a lot of baggage and wasn’t ready for another one. She returned to Nigeria, we met and it was just obvious that we had feelings for each other. We started dating shortly after.
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Fat people in Nigeria go through a lot of abuse and degradation from society at large. It seems they get no respite from the constant passive aggression and fatphobia. The male perspective on this topic isn’t often heard, so we talked to 5 men about what it was like to be fat in Nigeria.
Tolu
Growing up, I was a husky kid. I remained big through my adolescence until I was in university when I lost a lot of weight. People treated me like I was more attractive because I was slimmer. While I enjoyed the attention, I hated the hypocrisy because those same people wouldn’t look at me twice if I was fat.
In 2019, I was depressed. I gained weight because I was eating away my feelings and blew up again. COVID-19 arrived with 2020 and I grew even fatter. People who hadn’t seen me for months would go “Oh my God, Tolu, what happened?” as if I had suddenly grown a second head. Even people who hardly knew me thought they had the right to comment on my weight.
People in public places like markets would call me “biggie” and I hated it so much because it was annoying and dehumanising, and it reduced me to just my weight. I’m also scared of losing weight because of loose skin.
I’m also expected to take all the comments and not be offended. My mom’s co-worker who I was meeting for the first time made rude comments about my weight and I told her off. She reported me to my mom who made me apologise to her instead of telling the co-worker to mind her business. I was livid. Also, I felt like there is this weird thing where people assume I’m nice, the same way they assume disabled people have to be nice. It’s annoying.
Kayode
Being fat, there is an assumption that I have a lot of money in my account. Being fat affects you differently, depending on how you view your situation. Sometimes, people have thrown my weight at me as an insult during arguments. There’ve been so many hurtful nicknames, too plenty to name. I’ve learned to take it on the chin and give them back their doses.
I don’t expect women to like me because not everyone likes fat men. There have been good and bad experiences. I have a marked weight I’ve disciplined myself not to cross. If I do, I do cardio and diet to bring my weight down. I’m not very consistent but I hope to change that soon.
To every other big man out there, being fat is no reason for you to repress your personality just so people can like you. It’s your world; keep those who matter to you and enjoy every minute of it.
Max
Being a fat man isn’t so bad. I used to be bullied a lot when I was little but I learned how to dish it back to the bullies so that stopped. People are snide from time to time and children can be rude too.
It hasn’t been too bad with women. What I don’t have in physique, I make up for with my silver tongue and plus I no ugly at all. Being fat has its advantages. For one, you know that every woman dating you isn’t doing so because you’re “hot”. It’s also disadvantageous because I have to work for everything, romantically. I don’t get to hook up with people because I’m hot.
David
I wasn’t always fat, so that kinda offers control for comparison. In my experience as a fat guy in Nigeria, people say and do inappropriate stuff to you like they don’t expect it to hurt. Recently, I visited my former area, and someone who I wasn’t even close to stopped me on the road to tell me I had added so much weight and that my belly is now big. He went on to say I should work on my weight. It was shocking comfortable he was enough to tell me that.
People also tell you things they probably wouldn’t tell fat women. I was making out with a friends-with-benefits and she said, out of the blue, that her most recent patients were suffering from diabetes and they were all obese. She probably said it from a place of care but I just know if a man had said that while making out, people would call him a dick. I have thick skin and don’t mind all the attacks but being treated with more sensitivity would be nice.
People say there’s only one attractive way to be a fat woman but there’s no attractive way to be a fat man. As a fat man, your physical sexual appeal is zero. Almost no one is attracted to you without knowing you deeper and that kinda sucks. Nobody is going to thirst after your picture or just seeing you, but there’s a slim chance of that happening. This means I desexualise myself. I don’t want people reacting with revulsion because they think I’m moving to them. There’s a lot of passive disrespected and being treated as if you don’t exist but you learn to the chest and push it to the background.
Timi
The hardest part of being fat was my childhood. I was bullied in secondary school. My relatives also bullied me. I had an aunt who called me Fatima. However, when I entered uni, I started dressing smartly and being fat came with its perks. Because I was bearded, tall and big, people started treating me with respect — women, men and even lecturers. When I’m out with my sister who is 10 years older than I am, people assume I’m her husband.
Modern-day fatherhood is no mean feat. Have you met children? Raising daughters is doubly difficult because of a culture and society that’s mostly unfair to women. Still, being a father to girls has its rewards in the small, unexpected moments. I discussed with five young fathers about their favourite things raising daughters.
Ken
Daughters aged 2 and 4.
My favourite part about raising them is observing them play and listening to the conversations they have with each other. I love reading with them because I like to teach.
My babies are young so the hardest part about raising them right now is settling their incessant squabbles when they fight over toys, getting them to eat and lulling them to sleep, which is the hardest. On a broader level, it’s difficult raising children right now because they need to play outdoors and with other children but can’t right now because of the pandemic. I don’t think there’s a significant difference in the challenges in raising girls compared to boys that can be pinpointed on their gender.
Zaid
Daughters aged 5 and 6.
They were born so close together, they look like twins. I’d always wanted daughters because I grew up without an older sister. Raising them has been fun and I have a very tight bond with them. They’re thoughtful, inquisitive and always need attention, like their mother. I’m only afraid of bad habits they might pick up when they’re older.
Tex
Daughters aged 13, 11 and 7.
It has to be the hugs, kisses and “I love you’s”. It’s warm, open and expressive. I also love when we spontaneously gather around the piano to sing together. It’s really cute.
I feel like the world is kinder to boys and men so I feel a constant tension between letting them be and feeling like I have to make them tougher for the challenges ahead.
Bruce
Daughter aged 2.
I love the fact that having daughters has given me the chance to understand women’s growth and dynamics from the onset. It’s been a powerful and insightful experience. Girls are forced to grow up too fast. Their childhood is cut short earlier than boys’ because, from an early age, we have to teach her not to trust strangers. I’m avoiding forcing adulthood on my baby by being part of her growth as possible to ensure we can always talk about anything. I run a community of Dads who are looking to exchange ideas on how best to navigate fatherhood.
Osas
Daughter aged 2
My daughter likes to talks a lot and very well for a two year old. She’s always making conversation with me at her young age. She loves music and is very vocal about her choice in music.
There’s this unadulterated, raw feeling of love in the eyes of my daughter when she looks at me. There’s absolutely nothing I won’t do for her when she looks at me that way. It’s difficult to disappoint them. It is very difficult keeping up with daughters. What they want is what they want and they won’t let you be until they get it.
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What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.
Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Likeseries. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.
Today’s Man Like is Leo Dasilva, a former Big Brother housemate and an entrepreneur. He talks about having to find his feet by himself in the United Kingdom, coping with grief when he lost both his parents and surviving an abusive relationship.
Was there any defining moment where you realised, “Oh shit, I’m now a man”?
In December 2009, while in university in the UK, I received my last monthly stipend from my dad. I got a call from him shortly after and he said, “I’ve sent your final allowance. From now on, you have to fend for yourself.”
I had to make a decision — become creative or do the easier thing, fraud or sell drugs, which were quite commonplace in the UK. Fortunately, I had a healthy relationship with money. I’d never been greedy nor did I see money as a do-or-die affair, so I wasn’t inclined to get into selling drugs or defrauding people. My mom was also strict and religious, and I guess she passed some of her personal values to me. On the other hand, I knew I had to be creative if I wanted to make enough money to fend for myself. He sort of pushed me into the ocean and I learned how to swim. I was 17.
How did your creative journey begin?
There was a crew who organised Nigerian parties in the town, and I noticed they were lacking in a lot of areas, so I started mine. I started organising Nigerian nightlife parties in Hertfordshire. I guess it also helped that I was quite popular from running a show on the campus radio, so the party was a huge success. I made £5000 pounds from my first party, after investing £1500.
Getting involved in nightlife kind of affected the normalcy of what my life could have been. I met all kinds of people — drug dealers, fraudsters, dangerous characters. You end up running in similar circles, which wasn’t the most ideal for me. Once, I met someone who drugged me and held me hostage for days in her house.
Wow.
Yeah. I’d been talking to her for a while and she’d been inviting me to her place. I gave in eventually and decided to visit her, unknowingly stepping into a trap. That was it for me.
Tell us about your dad?
I didn’t quite grow up with him because my parents weren’t married, but we had a relationship. My dad was Leo Babarinde Dasilva, former Secretary to the Lagos State Government. I didn’t really connect with him because we only met a couple of times a year. But this changed when I was almost in the university, when he retired. We started relating closely until his death in 2015. He always made sure that I knew the son of who I was. He always made me feel like I was a big deal because I was his son, like Mufasa from Lion King. Because of him, I’ve never felt inferior in my life.
How about your mom?
My mom raised me as a single mother. She didn’t really understand the gravity of having a baby when she did. She was still trying to come up in life. Juggling work, side hustle and school wasn’t easy, but she pulled it off. We were very close until her death in 2018. We went through a lot together — from living in a face-me-I-face-you to living in Shitta, Surulere.
I assumed you had a comfortable life, your father being who he was.
No o. I grew up rough. My dad was only concerned with my education and general welfare. Everything else was on my mom. My dad and mom were in conflict a lot, so he wasn’t involved in our accommodation situation. He wanted me to live with him but my mom was adamant about keeping me. He thought my mom would give up, but she never did.
Do you feel any resentment towards your dad?
Not at all. If I didn’t go through all the things I did, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I have friends who inherited fortunes from their fathers who still haven’t figured their lives out to date.
Do you have any father figures you look up to?
A couple. My relationship with my stepfather is very cordial. Now that I don’t have any parents, I talk to him and get advice from him. Perhaps the most prominent father figure in my life is my godfather, Rev. Tunde Adenekan. I attended the same primary school with his kids. Because my mom was a single mother, he took up a lot of my parenting. He bought me my first phone. He always treated me like one of his own, not as a friend of his children. Just last weekend, we travelled together for owambe. We maintain a very tight relationship.
What’s the most important lesson you’ve learnt from him?
He’s always taught me not to take life too seriously. He’s a very chilled guy. He believes there’s always a solution to everything and there’s little reason to fret. One time, when I asked him why he was applying perfume after his night bath, he’d joke that he might die in the night and he didn’t want to be smelling when his body was being carried out of the house. He’s that kind of guy.
He’s also taught me to be kind. It doesn’t matter if I’ve just met you; if I have the capacity to help you out, I’ll do so. I learnt that from him.
So he’s your role model?
No, my role model was my mom. She was very enterprising. She was never comfortable with one source of income. She had a cleaning company, produced soap, had a catering business, produced plantain chips — she was a true jack-of-all-trades. She was the person I looked up to, my inspiration.
Let’s talk about relationships. What kind of person are you in relationships?
When I’m with someone I love, I give them all of myself. I’m also a lot more patient with my partners, more patient than I am in my friendships. This means I can be blind to my partner’s shortcomings and tolerate things I might not tolerate from my friends. In my relationships, I’m not the same Leo Dasilva everyone knows. This doesn’t mean I forget who I am or what I deserve.
Have you ever regretted being this way in your relationships?
Sometime back, I was in a verbally and physically abusive relationship, but I was too young to realise it. I thought what I was going through was normal. One time, while we were on a trip to Spain, she slapped me. Sometime after, she stabbed my shoulder.
Wow.
I still didn’t leave the relationship. I’m wiser now and more aware of the signs of abuse. If I’m in an abusive relationship, I’m going to leave.
Tell us about your first heartbreak.
It was when I found out that my crush had feelings for my best friend. I was in JSS 1.
Did you cry?
Cry ke? No o. I hardly cry.
When was the last time you cried?
JSS 1, when I was flogged by my PHE teacher.
You didn’t cry when you lost your parents?
When my dad died, It didn’t hit hard because my mom was always enough. I consoled myself with the fact that he had achieved a lot in his life. The only thing I was sad about was that he didn’t see me have kids, which was something he really wanted.
It was my mom I felt had died too early. She was my best friend, and we didn’t have secrets. We talked about our dreams and aspirations. We were just planning her retirement and talking about all the things she’d do. She died a week after I left the Big Brother House. I was depressed, but I knew there was no time to grieve. I needed to make money — I have a younger brother and I want to provide a great life for him. It took me a year to deal with it and accept that she was gone. It really hurt because it happened at a time when I was beginning to achieve things. Not being able to share my big moments with her was devastating. I even lost weight. January 2019 was when I decided to move on with my life.
What’s your biggest fear?
My biggest fear was losing my mom. I thought that would be the worst thing that could happen. Now that that has happened, I don’t really care. I’m not even scared of dying because I’ll leave a good legacy.
Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Likeseries. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.
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The subject of this week’s What She Said is a 50-year-old woman who dated her ex-husband for 12 years and was married to him for 14 years. She talks about leaving him after years of being manipulated, the joy that comes from being a single woman again and life as a divorced Christian woman.
How did the relationship start?
I met my ex in 1988, in my first year in university. On one of our first few dates, he invited me over to listen to a Sade Adu record. I really like Sade Adu. So I went to a boy’s quarters he was staying at. When I got there, there was no proper bed. There was just a mattress on the floor. I had heard about the slaughterhouse where guys take girls to sleep with. As I sat on the bed, I saw condoms fall out from under the pillow. Shocked, I ran away. I told him never to come to see me again. That was the end of the beginning of our relationship. After a while, he came and said there would be no sleeping together. Then we started dating again around the end of my 200 level. We soon started living together.
What was the relationship like?
I was very grateful to be with him. I had a bad home situation. He provided the kind of environment that I wanted. He provided a lovely home and was very caring. Anytime I quarrelled with my folks, he stood up for me. I saw a champion in him. It’s only in retrospect that I see it was a perfect relationship for him to manipulate me because he knew the things that triggered me. It was easy for him to switch from being a defender to an aggressor.
Do you think he loved you?
Perhaps, he did. But I also think it was because when he got rusticated from school, I was the only friend that stayed with him.
So how did he manipulate you?
From the beginning of our relationship, he often got upset if I talked to someone else. I didn’t realise until later that this was manipulative. It got so bad that if we were stuck in traffic and someone in a vehicle looked at me, and I looked that way at the same time, he would start saying I knew the person but was only pretending.
He also made it mandatory that I check in with him all the time. One day, I went to work and I left my phone at home; my boss called me because he hadn’t checked my office to see if I was around. My ex then went on about how I lied about being at work because of my boss’ call. It became so bad that whenever he started to talk, I froze, anticipating his accusations.
Did your parents approve of the marriage?
My parents didn’t have a lot to say, because as I said earlier, it was a bad home situation. We went to the registry three or so years after we started dating. We didn’t tell anyone about it.
People always asked when we would get married, and at one point, my dad got upset and asked that we have a proper wedding since we were already living together.
When we got to church, we were told we couldn’t do a proper wedding because we had gotten married before. We had to get the first marriage annulled at the registry before the wedding could be held.
How long were you together before getting married in church?
Twelve years. We got married in the year 2000.
Before marriage, we were sexually active and were not using protection, but we didn’t get pregnant. I wanted children so badly. So, I was like, maybe if we got our parents’ blessings, we’d have kids. That was part of the reason I wanted to have the wedding.
What was it like in the beginning part of the marriage?
Because we had been together for such a long time, getting married was just a formality.
At this time, I had a full-time job, but he still didn’t do much. A lot of the expenses were on me.
Then he went to university in the UK.
At what point did you start having children?
We had our first daughter two years after getting married, and the second was born three years after the first.
But through this time, we were having all kinds of problems.
What kinds of problems?
When we first got married, he was not the problem. It was the fact that we were living in his mum’s house. She didn’t live in Nigeria, but she would come one month in a year, and I would be miserable throughout that month. She was mean and nasty in a very subtle way; she would be nice when people were around, but she was mean about everything when nobody was there. It wasn’t so much him as it was her, but him not being able to caution her was the problem.
It was after I had my first daughter that my ex relocated to the UK. He was living with his mother there. He wanted me to leave my job and join him there. I told him I was unhappy about living in his mother’s house in Nigeria, so I couldn’t move to the UK, where I didn’t have any job and live with her again.
I would visit him with my daughter once or twice a year. It was on one of those visits I got pregnant with our second child.
Did the experience ever get settled with his mother?
No. It was a big part of why the marriage ended. She was also manipulative and said I was proud. One night I woke him up in the middle of the night and complained about how his mother treated me. He begged me, but nothing changed.
When did you realise that things were going bad?
I had low expectations from him, so I didn’t know things were even bad in the first place. I was also the one doing a lot financially.
Then I got an American grant to go to the US. Before I left, I kept my ATM card with him for my kids — he was already back in Nigeria at this point. Every time I got paid, he would remove money from my account and lie that he wasn’t taking my money. This was my first introduction to the fact that he could lie. If anyone had told me anything about him before, I would have insulted them. Once when he was in London, someone called to tell me he was doing nonsense, and I told them to shut up.
While I was away in America, my mum passed, and he was very mean to me during the time. He even accused me of cheating on him because he called me once, and I was on a Skype call with a student.
He began his accusations again without leaving room for me to talk, so I switched off my phone. After that, he didn’t speak to me for a while. Anytime I called, he would give the phone to his daughters.
Wow.
On the morning of my mother’s burial, he called from a service being held for my mum in Nigeria and he excitedly told me about all my family members who were present and kept giving them the phone to speak to me.
It was my sister who picked up the phone when he called. My sister was confused because I had told her we were not on good terms. We put the phone on speaker, and I told him I was the one on the phone. He kept up the excitement. This was when I realised that he was playing me.
What did you do next?
I called a friend who had been his best man at our wedding and told him what was going on. I asked him to find me a place I could stay in when I returned to Nigeria. I was ready to move out, but he convinced me not to do that, and I said alright.
When I got back to Nigeria, my ex was nice for about a month. It didn’t take long for things to return to to status quo.
He regularly checked my phone. Once he saw a contact he didn’t know, he would call me ‘ashawo’. He would call my daughters and tell them that I was a whore.
One day, I checked his phone for the first time and saw that he was cheating on me. I then realised that was why he was constantly angry.
I told him I wasn’t angry, that all I wanted was just for him to stop being constantly mad at me. He was getting progressively worse and verbally abusive.
In 2014, I lost my junior brother and an aunt. I took my girls on holiday to get over everything, and he said, “When you come back, you have one month to move out.”
How did you take it when he said that?
It was pretty clear by then that the marriage was over. Before then, he had gone to my dad to tell him I drank, smoked and followed men all over the place.
My dad asked him this: “When you came to marry her, was she like that?” He defended me and said that he (my ex) might be the problem. My ex tried to insult him.
Afterwards, my dad sent for me and asked me about everything. I told him everything that had been happening. When he asked why I kept everything to myself, I told him it was because he said to keep our marriage private. Then he said he was not an outsider. He said I shouldn’t leave by myself, but anytime my ex asked me to leave, I shouldn’t hesitate to pack my things and move out.
Did you move out?
After he gave me the one-month ultimatum to leave, my ex began to threaten me with a countdown. He threatened to kill me, so my dad insisted I go to the police. The police said they would invite him in for questioning, but that was a bad idea because if they invited him and he was allowed to leave, I better not be at his house.
So, I didn’t make a statement at the police station, and my dad was angry. I eventually found a place and moved. Immediately after moving, his attitude towards me got better. It was so strange people thought we were back together.
Did he also send your daughters away?
Yes. But in the first filing he did for the divorce, he stated very clearly that he didn’t want our daughters. It was later he changed his mind.
There was an incident where his girlfriend, who moved in after I moved out, went to my younger daughter’s school, picked her up and did her hair. The school apologised for allowing it and asked that I provide legal documents to enforce a rule on who has access to my child.
He went back to court to file for custody with the divorce, so I was simultaneously dealing with divorce and custody. Luckily, I got custody at the end.
As a Christian who’s divorced, what has your experience been?
I think God helped me to be wise. No one in church knew I was getting divorced except one man whose truck I used to move my things.
Nobody knew where I moved to for about two years.
I realised I was attending a spirit-filled church when the junior pastor called me one day and told me he had dreams about my husband, and God kept saying I should pray for him. I was reluctant — the pastor didn’t know I had left him.
I told him he could pray for him, but I was not interested. He was shocked, so this led to me telling him about the divorce.
What’s life like post-divorce
When it comes to this, I think I’m the exception. If my ex knew what he was doing when he asked me to leave, he wouldn’t have let me go. I’m living the life now. I’m having a fantastic time. One of the things I was very clear about was that we would parent my children together, whether he wanted it or not.
In the post-separation period, I spent a lot of time crying, praying and wondering what went wrong. I realised he had to be in their lives and take on his role as their father. I see in separations that the man enjoys his life while the mother continues to slave and ensures the children go to school. Then when it’s time to marry, the children find the father, and he becomes a knight in shining armour that gives their hand away in marriage.
This makes the mother resentful, thinking about all her sacrifices. I insisted he had to pay their fees and the girls visit him during holidays. I have the time of my life during their absence. It’s working even though we don’t talk.
What would you have done differently?
Growing up, I didn’t want to get married. I wanted to have two children for two different men because my parent’s marriage wasn’t fantastic, so I wasn’t looking forward to marriage like that. But when I met him, he seemed like someone who was focused and from a good home. So, when things started to go wrong, I told myself I shouldn’t have bothered.
However, I would not change a lot. A lot of the strength and character I have now is a result of this experience. And I wouldn’t change having these cool and well-behaved girls I have now.
Are you dating again?
Yes o. All I’ve gone through hasn’t changed me much; I’m a hopeless romantic.
I believe in love and marriage, but it’s not for me. I want to live life with a nice person. When Nigerian men say, “I’m going to marry you,” I cancel them because they believe that’s their selling point.
I’ve been dating the same guy since a year after I left my ex. I am mindful of being a role model for my daughters and also not exposing them unduly. I however love meeting new people and enjoy talking to lots of people I meet. It’s always amusing to me that people think getting to know someone means I want to date them but it doesn’t.
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Men might not be the most expressive people, especially when it comes to their friendships. Still, friends often go to great extents to help each other out, expressing their affection for each other in other ways without saying, “I love you bro.” I spoke to 5 men about the best things their friends have done for them. Here’s what they had to say.
Michael
Last year, I took a loan to commit to a business venture. Unfortunately for me, the business failed and I ran into a huge debt. My boys, Yemi, Babatunde and Tope came through for me without even asking questions. I owe them my life.
Emmanuel
I was required to create a presentation at one stage in an interview but I knew nothing about Powerpoint and slides. I reached out to Dan, someone who wasn’t exactly a friend but whom I had gone to secondary school and university with. I called him on the night before the slides were due and he created the presentation for me without collecting payment. The best part was I got the job that changed my life. I’m forever grateful to him.
Ken
There was a time I needed to send money home for a family emergency. I had to empty out my account because of the urgency. Unfortunately, my rent was due. I was the risk of getting evicted from my apartment when two of my friends loaned me 150k each for my rent.
I still had to support my family for a while so I wasn’t able to pay them back for over a year. They never mentioned the loan. When I was ready to repay it, they refused to collect it. They’re my boys and I’ll always be grateful for them.
Muyiwa
I met Jide in NYSC camp in Zamfara. When we were both redeployed to Ogun State, I told him I didn’t know where to stay. He offered me accommodation in his family house, free of charge. His family treated me like one of theirs. Thanks to him, I didn’t spend a dime on accommodation during NYSC. Now, we don’t see that often but we ensure we have beer twice or thrice a year.
Baba
Back in 2018, I was a starry-eyed, fresh from school, don’t-have-no-connects, ambitious boy from Ibadan. I only knew I wanted to be a lawyer and I wanted to do it in Lagos and it had to be one of those law firms on the island that’d pay me well.
I didn’t have a dime and everything in Lagos was so expensive. While I was applying for a job, I was posted to a firm that wanted to pay me N10,000 monthly. I had nowhere to stay but the Lord sent me an angel in form of Debe who housed me till I found a job. I couldn’t have made it without him.
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As told to Femi
We hope for easy lives. But life doesn’t always go the way the wish. I spoke to Balo*, a an educational program advisor. We talked about fending for his family when he lost his father and a culture that does now allow men to grieve. We had an interesting chat.
My dad died when I was 16, and everything changed. He passed after a prolonged illness. We’re not quite sure what it was, but he was diabetic. It had been just one month since I resumed university when I received the call to come home. I cried for days but people didn’t let me grieve, constantly urging me to be strong because I was now the man of the house and I had to be strong for my mother and sisters.
He was a government official and we were doing well. He enrolled me in one of the most expensive universities in Nigeria just before he died. I knew him as a protector and provider whom no responsibility was too heavy for. We weren’t very close but I know if he had lived long enough, we would have been buddies. My mother was distraught and slipped into a deep depression because my dad was the sole provider. She was a housewife and it wasn’t until after he died that she tried to get a job.
I was the oldest child. I had two younger sisters who were still in primary school. I wanted to drop out of school because I knew my mother would be unable to keep up with four years of tuition, alongside my siblings’ school fees. However, she made me promise her never to drop out, no matter the circumstances. She intended to collect loans to keep up with my tuition. She asked for loans from almost everyone we knew, including my dad’s friends. They all turned her down. They were worried that people would think they were having an affair with my mother if they gave her money. I’m not sure what she had in mind for handling our finances, seeing as she had no job, but I promised her anyway.
My mom had some money saved up and opened a provisions store but the proceeds weren’t making a dent in our expenses. My dad also left behind a bar which he started up shortly before he died, but it was barely profitable. As the firstborn, I knew I had to step up and fill my dad’s shoes even though I had no idea how.
After the burial, I went back to school. But my sisters had to stop school for a while. I found that I was unable to study and writing exams were difficult, due to the grief of losing my dad and the troubles on the homefront. To avoid flunking out of school, I decided to attend and focus on classes. I also made the acquaintance of my lecturers and HODs.
In my second year, I met Mr Subomi*, a lecturer in my department. He thought I was a smart guy and pitied my condition. He started to give me past questions, areas of concentration and potential questions. My grades improved, and I was doing okay.
I knew my mom could not keep up with my school fees. I needed to figure out a way to make some money. I had the idea to use the tips I was getting from my lecturer to draw up potential exam questions and sell these to my classmates. The questions were usually 80% correct. My school had a lot of rich kids who didn’t want to study, so my exam selling business flourished. With this money, I was able to pay my own school fees, send money home for my sister’s school fees and also some money for my mom to invest in the bar business. Even with all the money I was making, I didn’t have a lot of extra money lying around after settling my school fees and my family’s needs.
I sold exam questions for the rest of my stay in school. Mr Subomi would supply me with areas to concentrate on, and I would draft them into potential questions, sell them to my classmates and give him a share of the profit. There were times when I couldn’t make school fees because Mr Subomi would too be scared to pass me exam tips because school inspectors were monitoring the faculty closely. I had to beg for an extension. My dad’s friends ghosted us except for one of them who chipped in from time to time.
Eventually, I grew the bar into a hotel from what I made from selling exam questions and what I made from the bar itself. My family no longer had to rely on handouts. I could also put my younger sisters through school and that made me really happy and take care of their needs.
My examination question-selling business rounded up when I graduated. I did not attend my convocation ceremony. Ridden with guilt, I could not bring myself to collect a certificate I obtained doing what I did. If I faced the same circumstances, knowing what I know now, I would take a different path. However, I’m no longer plagued by that feeling. I did what I had to do for my family.
Now, I work for an international academic organisation. It’s a remote job that allows me to run my farm and the hotel.
I’m not where I want to be yet, because most of the money I make goes into paying my sisters’ school fees and other expenses, but I’m certain I’ll get there someday.
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